Snowed In Anthology

Chapter 1-2

In an ideal situation, Ross would get him to a hospital for oxygen treatment. Hell, even a dentist’s office would probably have what he needed. All Ross had available to him were blankets, and a dog. The dog curled up by his human’s feet and kept watch, and Ross sat up with him. It would have to be enough.

* * * *

Ash gasped his way awake. He felt like crap. If he could combine all the best parts of a hangover, the aftereffects of a chemical weapons attack, and the joy and fun of a traditional bombing, he’d probably feel exactly like he did now. He’d sometimes combined two of those elements, but never all three at once. This would be a new experience for him. He rolled over, coughing and gasping, only to find Porthos nudging him and licking his face.

Dog breath was the worst.

He reached up for Porthos and patted once he found his dog’s shoulder. “Good boy,” he groaned. “Good boy.” As he blinked the haze from his eyes, he tried to make some sense of where he was. He didn’t recognize the surroundings. The wallpaper screamed 1970s, the floor screamed Mop me, and the scent had notes of must and long-gone meals heavy with cabbage and bacon.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Ash sat bolt upright when he heard that voice. He hadn’t heard it in years, not since college. The sound now painfully tore through his chest, just as much as it had the last time he’d heard it. He grabbed at his chest, just for a second, before he realized the pain wasn’t physical. He didn’t know if he was going to stop breathing or throw up. Neither was a great option, though one was messier than the other.

He looked up to see Ross, only to find that Ross looked the same. Well, Ross looked the same except for the part where he was dressed up like a state trooper. Ash blinked his eyes again. Maybe they’d clear and this would all be a hallucination.

Ross leaned in a little closer. “Buddy? Are you able to speak?”

Porthos growled when Ross got closer, and Ross chuckled. “Look at you being all protective. You were just fine when I was dragging his ass in here, but now that his eyes are open all bets are off? Buddy, I’ve got to evaluate your human and make sure he doesn’t have brain damage.” He slumped a little. “Not that I could do much about it from here.” The wind howled outside and shook the walls, as if emphasizing his point.

That was enough for Ash. He pulled Porthos a little closer to him. “His name is Porthos,” he growled. Since when was his voice so raspy? “Not Buddy.”

“Ah. My apologies.” Ross sat up straighter with that fake mildness he’d always had when he was being insincere. “I had to call him something when you were out cold. He wasn’t answering to ‘Hey, you.’” Then he relaxed a little. “I guess you must be a big Three Musketeers fan.”

Ash stared at him. Had he meant so little to Ross that he’d just forgotten how much he’d loved Dumas? “Yeah, I still am. That’s not the kind of thing that’s likely to change.”

Ross tilted his head a little, like he didn’t quite understand, but pressed on. “It’s just funny, I used to date this guy, he was super into The Three Musketeers.”

It finally sunk in, and when it did, Ash was ashamed he hadn’t figured it out before. It must have been the pain and nausea slowing his brain down. He scooted back against the nearest wall, so it could support his shoulder and his back. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” He laughed weakly, until he coughed. That jostled his shoulder, which sent spikes of pain down through his body.

“Should I?” Ross narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

The room spun around Ash, and he used his good arm to prop himself against the floor. He wanted to scream, to shout his resentment to anyone who would listen. It didn’t necessarily make sense for him to do so right now. He was sick, and he was hurt, and he needed Ross until he could get out of here. Wherever here might be.

Besides, screaming resentment he hadn’t known he felt until two minutes ago, didn’t feel like the most rational thing to do.

“Obviously it was a minor interaction,” he croaked out. Maybe it had been to Ross. Ross had just broken his heart, no big deal. “How did I get here?”

“I found you and your car as I was heading toward base. You shouldn’t have been on the road,” Ross told him, with a severe look. “The governor declared a state of emergency, and a travel ban, and not just because he was being a d**k. No one was supposed to be on the roads. My job is to be looking for stuck motorists.” He relaxed and looked around. “And I found one. Your tailpipe had been stuck in the snow, and you and your dog were getting a good dose of carbon monoxide poisoning.”

“Jesus.” Ash coughed into his hand and struggled to keep his stomach from rebelling. He reached for Porthos again. “That’s…I remember swerving to avoid another dog. It wasn’t mine. And that’s when I skidded out. I must have hit my head on the frame or something. I was heading north.”

Ross chuckled. He looked so good, even in the dingy lighting and the unflattering uniform. Ashton had thought he was mostly over him, but having him here and close blew all of that out of the water. Of course, knowing Ross didn’t even remember him probably had something to do with his feelings, too.

“Well you weren’t heading north when I found you. Maybe that explains why you’re moving so stiffly, maybe you’ve got a touch of whiplash.”

Ash didn’t have whiplash. Or maybe he did, but whiplash had nothing to do with the way he moved. “Maybe.” He didn’t need Ross knowing what he’d been up to for the past few years. Hell, if Ross had bothered to turn on his TV he’d have found out. “Thanks for pulling us out.”

“No problem. It’s kind of my whole job, literally.” Ross smiled widely. “Do you think you can handle a little bit of water?”

“Has Porthos had any?”

“He absolutely has. Not that he was willing to move from your side to get at it.” Ross chuckled. “What had you on the road during an emergency, anyway? I promise, I’m not going to write you a ticket.”

Ash closed his eyes. Wasn’t this his own stupid luck? Rescued by the guy who’d broken his heart, who didn’t even remember doing it. If the way the snow had piled up against the window was any indication, Ash would be stuck here for some time, looking at the same smile that had bound his soul all those years ago. “I had an assignment, actually. And because I’m still new here, my phone doesn’t get the emergency alerts. Believe it or not, I’m supposed to be covering ski season at Nashoba Valley. But I got turned around, and then I swerved to avoid that dog, and it was all over. I don’t even know why they sent me up there. I don’t ski.”

“Really? Well, if you’re going to live in New England, you’d better learn.” Ross gave him a little half grin. “It’s a pretty popular pastime around here.”

Ash moistened his lips. He didn’t want to hint at too much. He didn’t know if he wanted Ross to recognize him, or not, at this point. Either one seemed unpalatable. “Yeah. I used to go to school around here. I even skied. But, ah, I had some injuries, and the docs said to stay off the slopes.” Or anything else that involves high impact, like bombs or explosions or things slamming into you at high speeds. “So, I’m benched, permanently. But I guess they wanted to see what the new guy could do.”

“Are you a photographer?” Ross’s interest sounded more polite than genuine.

“Yeah, photographer and journalist.” Ash had won multiple awards for his coverage of the wars in Syria and Yemen, and the crises in Guatemala and Honduras, but apparently Ross hadn’t checked up on him. Ash couldn’t exactly throw stones. He’d checked in via f*******:—quietly, without reaching out—but he hadn’t followed Ross’ career either. Of course, Ross hadn’t been on TV on a regular basis, so it wasn’t exactly the same. “It’s a living.”

“I guess. Cops and journalists don’t always get along so well.” Ross chuckled. “But hey, we’re in the same boat for now.” He stood up and stretched. “So, I spoke with dispatch. There’s a tree down across the main road from the south, and I don’t know what’s happening on the road from the north, but it ain’t good. We might as well dig in, because we’re going to be here for a good while.”

Ash rubbed at his face. “I’m grateful. I am. I’d have died if you’d left me where you found me, and more importantly, Porthos would have died. I just—I’m not sure where here is, exactly.”

Ross took off his hat. His dark hair was a lot shorter now, but he still had that playful look to him. Ash could just run his fingers through that hair, it would be so easy. He wouldn’t even have to tell Ross who he was—no. He wouldn’t do that. Ash deserved better than to be one among many, damn it.

“My dispatcher told me about an abandoned house not too far from our location. We aren’t the only state trooper and civilian unit out in the wild tonight. A few have taken shelter in businesses. We just had to be a little more creative. It’s fine. It’s obvious these folks aren’t coming back tonight.”

Ash shuddered. “I hope not. Hey, do you have my phone? I need to tell my editor where I am. Can’t have the new guy be a no-show for his first assignment, right?”

“Oh God, no.” Ross laughed. “You’d be fired.” He rummaged through a few things and passed Ash his phone. As he did, their hands brushed together for just a second. Did Ross feel that same electric spark that passed between them?

If he did, he didn’t say or do anything about it.

“Thanks,” Ash muttered. He shifted position, since the pain in his shoulder had become excruciating, and called his boss.

John picked up on the first ring. “Ash? Oh my God, are you okay?”

Ash chuckled weakly. “Thanks. Um, yeah. Thanks to the kindness of a passing state trooper, Porthos and I have survived our first encounter with New England weather. Unfortunately, I won’t be making it up to Nashoba tonight. I’m stuck until the storm passes and I’m pretty sure my car’s toast.”

“Dude, don’t even worry about it. As soon as they lift the state of emergency, I’ll send someone to wherever they take you—hospital, Target, whatever. We’ll get you home and safe. Are you in a safe place now?”

“Safe enough. It’s an abandoned house, it seems reasonably sturdy, so far. It’s better than gassing myself and my dog in our car, you know?” Ash made himself laugh. He wasn’t particularly keen on dying, but if he had, it would have been through his own stupidity. Risking Porthos, though—that would have been unforgivable.

“Don’t even think about it.” John’s voice had an undercurrent of steel. “Listen, maybe you can work it into a feature about the dangers of winter driving. That way we can make sure you’re on the clock. You know, for the insurance.”

“Hey, good angle. I’ll try to come up with something. I don’t know if it will be useable, but we’ll see.” Ash grimaced. He hadn’t thought about the insurance. He hadn’t had to before. “I’ll talk to you soon, John.”

“Definitely. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” John hung up.

“Sounds like that went well.” Ross looked away from the window. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear. It’s just close quarters, you know?”

“No, no, I get it. It turns out they were worried. I think they must have called or something, and I didn’t answer.” He struggled to his feet and then he swayed. He used his good arm to hold himself up against the wall. “This place still has all its utilities?”

“They must be planning to sell it. I mean why else leave all this stuff on, right?” Ross looked around. “Where’d you go to school?”

“Hm?” Ash’s mind raced. Could he come up with a good lie? And should he? Would it be the end of the world if Ross figured out who he was? “I went to Northeastern.”

“Huh. Me too.” Ross opened his mouth like he was going to say something, and Ash’s heart sped up. Would this be when he remembered Ash? Remembered them? Then Ross shook his head, just a little bit. “It’s a big school. Everyone’s probably seen everyone at least twice, right?”

Ash sighed. “Right.” Porthos let out a disgruntled little sound beside him. “All right. Let’s settle in or whatever.”